GREAT title, disappointing book.

Alistair Findlay’s irreverent memoirs of a 40-year career as a social worker in Scotland could have been so much better if he had built his discourse around the real-life personal stories of the many clients he encountered from the early 1970s onwards.

Instead, he has opted for an essentially dry approach, based around descriptions of departmental reorganisations and office politics, interspersed with small talk about works outings and football matches.

Consequently, the book feels as if it has been written mainly for Findlay’s own benefit as a storehouse of memories rather than for the reader, who comes away feeling short-changed.

Not until 60 pages in is there an anecdote about anyone who has actually gone through the social work system under Findlay’s watchful eye. Even when that arrives, the tale is way too short and ultimately unfulfilling. Others follow but each similarly fails to take on meaningful shape.

The shame is that Findlay is a decent and amusing writer, who clearly has interesting things to say. His observations on the Orkney child abuse scandal are revealing and his no-nonsense view of social work and social workers is refreshing.

Yet there’s no real focus to the book. Anyone looking for an in-depth appraisal of community care in Scotland over the past 40 years will find only snippets to help them out, while readers searching for something more entertaining are provided with just a few interludes of interest.

There’s a James Herriot-style memoir waiting to be written by a social worker somewhere — one that weaves intimate stories about the lives and personalities of clients into a consideration of wider issues.

Findlay could have written that book but unfortunately has chosen not to.

Mollycoddling the Feckless is published by Luath Press, £12.99.